


someone asked me to describe home and i thought of you

by aryasbitch



Series: but you're a king and i'm a lion-heart [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst free for once, Bisexual Arya Stark, Bran Stark Has Emotions, Canonical Character Death, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, King Tommen Baratheon, Lesbian Sansa Stark, Mild Smut, Past Character Death, Pregnancy, Queen Arya Stark, Rickon Stark Lives, Stark Siblings - Freeform, Winterfell, arya being bi isnt mentioned or relevent to the plot, direwolves, he's not the three eyed raven, i just wanted u to know, stark shenanigans, the gang goes North, very small amount but its there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25413421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryasbitch/pseuds/aryasbitch
Summary: Arya and Tommen visit Winterfell with their children
Relationships: Arya Stark & Margaery Tyrell, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Lyanna Mormont & Arya Stark, Lyanna Mormont/Rickon Stark, Meera Reed & Arya Stark, Meera Reed/Bran Stark, Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Tommen Baratheon/Arya Stark
Series: but you're a king and i'm a lion-heart [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749847
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	someone asked me to describe home and i thought of you

**Author's Note:**

> \- sorry for the hiatus, but we're back with the final part!!  
> \- in case you didn't pick it up in the last chapter, Arya and Tommen's twin daughters are named Visenya and Lyarra, and Nymeria's pups are Balerion, Frost, Carnage, and Rhaella  
> \- also, reminder that this fic started with the characters being aged up a bit, so Arya was 14 in what would be the events in season one. so in this, I see Arya as being about 18/19, Bran being 16/17, and Rickon being 15/16. Sansa is about 19/20 and all the Stark's significant other's are the same ages as them

The desire to visit Winterfell has resided in Arya since she left it all those years ago. It was never even a possibility until she married Tommen, but there was never a good time to go North. Being newly crowned, the Frey’s, the pregnancy. But now, there is nothing in their way. 

Tommen and Arya’s daughters are only a few months in age, but old enough to travel without too much issue. Myrcella and Tyene are still in King’s Landing to rule in their absence, despite Tyene’s younger sisters having left already to head back to Dorne.

So, with Myrcella and Tyene’s assurances that they can rule for a few moons in the King and Queen’s absence, they set out. The month-long travel is tiresome if nothing else. Visenya is constantly trying to step out of the carriage, and Lyarra never seems to stop crying unless one of the direwolf pups is in her hands. 

Arya had wanted to bring Nymeria North with them, and it made no sense to part her from her pups. Cramping two girls only six months and four direwolf pups give Arya nothing short of a migraine nearly every day. But every time she feels one coming, Tommen will press kisses to her shoulders and rub a hand along her back, and it makes the ache behind her eyes almost worth it.

By the time they arrive in Winter Town, a layer of snow coats the ground. Winter has not yet hit King’s Landing, but Arya is sure it will have by the time she and Tommen head home.

The air is cool against her cheeks as she looks out the carriage, smiling to the children and men and women that have lined up to see their arrival in the North. Tommen props up Visenya in his lap, grasping onto one of her small hands as he waves to them. 

A small boy with black curls stares up at them, and Arya laughs warmly as his gaze sets on Nymeria, who is walking along with the horses. The boy’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he sees the wolf, but they soften and he grins as Carnage pops his small head over the side of the opening. 

Lyarra begins to whimper in Arya’s arms, and Arya leans down to scoop up Frost, effectively ceasing the cries of the blonde babe. 

“Do you suppose Sansa will be overjoyed or miffed that we’ve brought the direwolves with us?” Tommen’s lips quirk up, and he answers without looking at her, still waving out the side of the carriage.

“Oh, she’ll be irritated, I’m sure.” Arya rolls her eyes but huffs out a laugh anyways, “But I’m sure she’ll get over it when she remembers that you’re here as well, as well as Lyarra and Visenya.”

Arya’s smile drops, and Tommen turns to face her when she remains silent.

“What is it?” 

“I just don’t want to see her hurt over the children.” Arya brushes her fingers over Lyarra’s head, “She and Margaery can’t have their own babes.”

Tommen leans forward and clasps his hand in hers, and Arya turns her eyes to his.

“They can’t, but they can always have a ward. Or adopt a babe from someone else. They’d love them all the same.” Arya nods at his words. She knows he’s right, but she remembers how Sansa was when she was younger.

“I know. I just remember when she was ten and two, and all she wanted was to be Queen and have a handsome husband by her side with her beautiful babes in her lap.” Arya worries at her lip, her concern growing larger, “We both know she isn’t the same girl as then, but I still worry. I just want her to be happy.”

“Sansa is happy. I promise.” Tommen brings his hand up to her cheek, tracing his thumb along her jaw. His smile is soft and as full of affection as it was when they were only five and ten and she was teaching him to wield a sword. “She has Margaery, and your brothers, and _you_. I doubt she’ll be jealous or hurt that we have children. Sansa wants us to be happy as well, she wouldn’t put jealousy ahead of her happiness for us.”

The doubt unravels in her chest, and Arya feels lighter. “I know, thank you. You’re right, I just worry sometimes. I haven’t seen her in far too long, I want this visit to be happy for us.”

Tommen nods and leans back with a soft look on his face, Visenya grasping at his hair as she does. Her favorite hobby as of late has been trying to rip their hair from their skulls. She had done so to Nymeria a week prior, and the wolf had growled before licking at her face, and Visenya had giggled and nudged herself away to tug at the hair on the pups.

Tommen is careful as he removes Visenya’s hand from his hair, wincing as she grasps a few strands as she lets go. 

“I know, love, and it will be. Even with the children crying and the wolves causing a ruckus.” Arya hums in agreement, looking out at the snow. Winterfell is approaching their view. It makes her grin and leans further out to watch the castle growing in size as they near it.

In the Winterfell courtyard, Arya’s breath is taken away at the sight of her home. It’s been years since she’s been home, years since she’s even set foot in the North. She’ll always miss her father and mother and brother, always think of what might’ve happened had her family never left Winterfell, but then she never would have married Tommen.

She never would have fallen pregnant with her two daughters, or become so close with Myrcella. Sansa never would have met Margaery. So Arya doesn’t regret it, in a way. The compromise of her father dying but meeting Tommen will never be something Arya can compare, but there’s nothing she can do to change the past.

All she can do is focus on the future.

Arya steps out of the carriage first, Lyarra still in her arms. The pups are yapping as they fall out behind her, playfully nipping each other before Nymeria approaches them and they cuddle into her side.

Tommen steps out next with Visenya, and Arya turns to see her family.

Sansa is beside Margaery, their hands clasped, and next to them is Bran in his wheelchair, and a woman with dark curly hair that Arya thinks is Bran’s wife, Meera Reed. Beside them is Rickon, who must be taller than Arya by now, and his betrothed, who Arya believes is Lyanna of House Mormont.

They approach Sansa first, who tries to remain composed at the sight of them. The joy in her eyes at the sight of their daughters gives her away though. 

“Your Grace.” Sansa curtsies low, the rest of her family and the Northern lords and ladies behind her following suit. She rises with a grace that reminds Arya of a queen. Margaery is the same way, her smile perfectly gentle and inviting. “Winterfell is yours.”

Arya only rolls her eyes and huffs, though she grins as well. “Thank you, Lady Stark, Lady Tyrell.” 

The two sisters meet eyes for a moment with raised brows, before they both giggle and meet in the middle, embracing as much as possible with the child still in Arya’s arms. As Arya pulls back, Sansa coos over Lyarra and she sees Tommen and Margaery embracing beside them. 

“Oh, she’s so small. And her hair! She received the Lannister blonde, I see.” Arya nods, shifting to place the girl in her sister's arms.

“Yes, but Lyarra has the Stark eyes. Her sister is the opposite.” Tommen says, placing Visenya in Margaery’s arms. Arya grins, switching places with her husband to embrace Margaery. She can feel Margaery’s smile into her shoulder and she pulls back to look at her.

“I’ve missed you, so much. You have no idea how hard it’s been to deal with your sister without you.” Sansa rolls her eyes and Arya grins up at Margaery.

“And you don’t know what the Lords and Ladies of King’s Landing have been like without the lovely Tyrell rose to charm them,” Margaery smirks, because both girls know the people of King’s Landing had grown to adore Arya long before Margaery even left.

Arya continues down the line, stooping down to hug Bran fiercely before she stands and embraces his wife. Meera curtsies clumsily but grins largely at Arya.

“Your Grace.”

“Please, call me Arya. I’m sick of titles among family.” Bran clasps his hand in Meera’s, an action Arya does not miss, before she continues on to Rickon.

“You’ve grown so tall!” Rickon whines at her hug, but embraces her fiercely, arms encircling her and pulling her to his chest. 

“And you’re still short.” Arya mock glares, narrowing her eyes up at him, but they soften as she takes him in. He looks like Robb did the last time Arya saw him, when she was still four and ten. They have the same Tully blue eyes and red curls.

Arya turns to the girl beside her brother. She is as small as Arya, and when she meets the girl’s eyes Arya detects glimmers of respect. The girl’s smile is reserved but in no way cold.

“Your Grace, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Arya smiles.

“You as well, Lady Mormont. How long have you and my brother been betrothed?” Rickon’s cheeks grow warm, which Lyanna seems to notice, judging by her smile.

“Only a few moons, Your Grace.” “Arya, please.” Lyanna dips her head in acknowledgment. 

“Is that Needle?” Lyanna nods at the sword in question, strapped to Arya’s waist. Arya nods, and Lyanna grins largely. “If you have the time, Your Grace, I’d love to learn to wield a sword. I’ve heard stories of you and Needle, as well as your dagger.”

Rickon’s eyes shine with both affection and delight when his betrothed mentions her desire to wield a sword. Arya removes Rhaenys from its sheath, flipping it in her hands so the hilt faces Lyanna, who takes it and runs her fingers along the blade gently.

“Only if you call me Arya. Then, I’d be happy to teach you what I’ve learned.” Lyanna nods, handing her back the dagger as Arya turns to face her husband. He had been conversing with Bran and Meera as Sansa and Margaery continued to coo over their babes, but he soon turns and meets her gaze with a smile.

Arya matches it, grinning as she moves to take Visenya from Margaery, who pouts before leaning down to rub her hand along Nymeria’s head. Arya hadn’t even noticed that Shaggydog and Summer had arrived in the courtyard, but Nymeria’s pups are attempting to crawl over them. Summer remains upright and still, but Shaggydog rolls onto his back to allow the pups access to his stomach. 

Rickon smiles at the sight and falls to his knees to pet Balerion, Lyanna leaning down after him to pet her as well. Arya turns to look at Sansa.

“May I see the Crypts?”

-

They walk with arms clasped to the crypts. Visenya and Lyarra had remained with Tommen and Margaery, who both understood the sister’s desire to be alone to visit the crypts.

Arya stands in front of her father’s statue, gazing solemnly up at it.

“They didn’t get his face right,” Sansa murmurs. Arya only nods in agreement. She turns away to assess her sister.

“So, Bran and Meera. And Rickon and Lyanna.” Sansa laughs. “How are our two brothers already betrothed or married?”

Sansa shrugs, lips titled up in a smile. “It’s been so strange to watch them grow closer to the two girls, I can’t imagine being hundreds of miles away and hearing about it through writing.”

“It’s certainly been strange, hearing our family change while away in King’s Landing.” Arya moves closer to Sansa, leaning her head onto her sister’s shoulder, “But, at the same time, I’ve enjoyed King’s Landing.”

“You? Enjoying King’s Landing as the Queen with a husband and two children?” Arya shoves at her shoulder, but the redhead only shakes her head in amusement. “I’m glad you’re happy, Arya. Truly, I am.”

“Even if I’m the Queen and you’re not?” Sansa turns to her, gaze lighting up as she sees Arya is only joking, only jesting in bringing up old childhood feuds.

“Maybe Margaery and I are planning on overthrowing you and Tommen. Maybe that’s been our plan all along.” Arya throws her head back and laughs so loud it echoes through the crypts.

“Treason! How dare you say such a thing to your sweet sister.” Sansa shakes her head once more, giggling now as well, and the two depart the crypts, leaving their ghosts behind them.

-

It isn’t difficult to adjust to life in Winterfell. Despite being King and Queen, Sansa and Margaery are still the Ladies of Winterfell, and so their days are the most relaxed they’ve been since before becoming King and Queen. Well, plus two loud children and four wolf pups who are insistent on biting the ankles of everyone they come across.

Some days, Arya will train Lyanna or other young girls and boys. Others, she will run through the snow with Nymeria, remembering what it was like to be a young girl growing up in the North.

Tommen, however, spends most of his days inside. Despite claiming Winterfell to be beautiful and alluring, her husband is still a Southern boy. He’s terrible with the cold. One day, Arya presses her icy fingers to the small of his back, and his shriek is so loud he wakes their daughters.

Arya giggles so hard she nearly can’t hold them against her chest to soothe them back to sleep.

-

Dinner is loud, as usual. But tonight it’s just the Starks. Arya loves her husband, and Margaery, and has grown to love Meera and Lyanna in the two weeks she’s been home, but she’s also missed her siblings. 

She hadn’t seen Rickon and Bran since she first left Winterfell, and it had been just over a year since she had seen Sansa. So dinner with just her siblings is welcome to Arya.

“Rickon.” Her brother’s head shoots up from the table, and Arya sees him remove his hand from below the table, where he no doubt had been feeding one of the direwolves. Sure enough, Frost and Rhaella begin yipping the second his hand has finished retracting. Arya raises a brow but refrains from commenting. “How exactly did you and Lyanna meet?”

From the corner of her eye, Arya sees Sansa pointedly look down at her plate so Rickon won’t see her smirk. Her brother is blushing bright red, and Arya’s other brother is stirring his bowl and is smiling so largely Arya’s own cheeks hurt.

“Um, well. We met- we…” Arya raises a brow, and Sansa’s smirk looks bigger than before. Bran’s eyes are still bright with amusement. Rickon’s stammering cuts off as Sansa speaks.

“Lyanna was yelling at one of her men for being a ‘sodding imbecile,’” Sansa takes a sip of soup and Bran jumps in to finish the story.

“Rickon saw the man cowering at her, barely five feet tall, and practically fell to his knees in proposal.” Rickon screeches in outrage and flings a chunk of potatoes at Bran, who gasps in mock outrage and leans over as much as he can in his chair to flick him. Sansa has her head in her hands but looks to be fighting back a smile.

“I did not! Take that back, Bran!” Arya leans back and cackles, up until Rickon turns to her and flings potatoes at her. She narrows her eyes and her jaw drops before she too throws some bread at her brother.

“Arya!” Sansa sounds both aggravated and amused, but it shifts to offense as Bran flicks water at her. She throws a chunk of bread at him in retaliation and the Stark’s giggles die down after another moment.

“Did you really propose when you first met her?” Rickon rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“No, but I knew I was mad for her when I first met her. And I didn’t propose to her, she proposed to me.” Arya claps her hands in delight, her love for Lyanna growing by the second.

“Well, I love her. And Meera too.” Bran smiles at her admission, and the four turn back to their food quietly. 

One of the pups yaps from beneath the table and Rickon shifts his shoulder lower.

“Rickon! Stop feeding the direwolves!”

-

Sparring with Lyanna reminds her of her time with Syrio Forel. Lyanna is similar to how Arya used to be with training, passionate but stubborn. Lyanna learns quickly, but sometimes doesn’t understand the necessity of learning to stand on one foot for balance or chasing cats to be quiet.

But the sparring itself is one of Arya’s favorite parts to being in Winterfell. Most of her sparring in King’s Landing has been with herself, or with the guards they have. They used to laugh at her before she became Queen, up until she would knock them on their arse’s a minute into fighting. 

Arya hadn’t been able to train with the Martell’s either, due to her pregnancy. But she’s able to train with Lyanna now that she’s in Winterfell and past her first pregnancy.

“Your grip is too tight again.” Arya raps her wooden sword against Lyanna’s, hard enough that the other girls is sent flying out of her hand. It lands in the snow and Lyanna huffs. 

“If I don’t hold it tightly, it’ll fall out of my hands before you even strike at me.” Arya hums and tilts her head.

“The sword has to be part of your arm. You can’t drop your arm, can you?” Lyanna shakes her head as she turns to pick up her sword. “Then you can’t drop your sword, not if it’s a part of your body.”

Lyanna nods, adjusting her grip. Arya resists the urge to look behind her. Tommen is watching them from the side of the battlements, clearly thinking Arya hasn’t noticed his presence. Or maybe he knows and just doesn't care.

Arya and Lyanna spar for another half hour before Arya decides their training is done for the day, and Lyanna sets off, most likely to find Rickon. Tommen approaches behind Arya and she turns with her hands clasped behind her back.

“Enjoying the show?” Arya smirks and Tommen stares back at her with wide eyes full of awe and what might just be lust.

“I haven’t seen you fight in a while, not until before the twins really.” Arya’s smirk grows. 

“And where are the twins?” Tommen shifts closer so he can wrap his arms around her, and Arya brings her own in front of her to trail up his chest.

“With Sansa and Marg. Nymeria is with them as well.”

“And my brothers?” Her fingers have moved to the back of his neck now, and his breath hitches as she tugs on the short strands at the back of his head.

Tommen blinks his eyes back into focus, one hand moving dangerously low on her back. “Bran is with his wife in the Godswood, and Rickon is with Sansa.” 

Arya hums in approval.

“Perfect.” She moves forward to kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip as he sighs into her mouth. How long has it been since they’ve been together, with no interruptions? Far too long, Arya decides, as Tommen lets out a breathy groan. “Let's go then.”

Tommen lets out a startled laugh as she pulls back to grasp his hand, pulling him behind her and into the castle. He holds her up against the wall as he fucks her, the hallway dark and abandoned. When she’s peaked twice and him once, she pulls them further into the castle, until she drags them to an abandoned room to ride his length as he cries out from below her.

He palms her stomach as she swivels her hips above him, a habit he never dropped since her pregnancy. Arya leans down until she can reach his face and kisses him, her beautiful husband who she will never tire of.

-

They barely have time to fix their hair and adjust their clothes before a maid, Elna, finds them with a sheepish smile and tells them dinner is ready and they’re presence is required by Lady Stark. It makes Arya miss Ayana. She would’ve smirked and teased them for their desperate need for each other.

Arya seats herself beside Margaery at the table, with Tommen on her other side. Margaery gives her a knowing smile and Arya only shrugs in response. No point hiding it. It’s not as if people think she and Tommen have never lain together, considering they have children.

Visenya chooses that moment to crawl from Sansa’s lap beside Margaery over to Arya, nearly falling twice in the process if Margaery hadn’t been prepared to catch her. Rickon sticks his tongue out at the babe, making her giggle.

As Arya spoons her food onto her plate, she notices that Lyanna is staring up at Rickon with a fond smile. Tommen nudges her and nods at the pair, the two sharing a smile over her youngest brother finding love. 

Lyarra ruins the moment, however, when she starts to cry as Nymeria walks away from where she had been lovingly smacking the wolf with her small hands. Tommen only smiles and picks up the blonde, cooing down at her as she settles in his arms and her cries begin to die down.

It makes Arya’s heart want to burst out of her chest, truly.

She never thought she would marry for love, not really, not in a world where young girls are so often sold off like cattle. But maybe their world is changing for the better. 

She married for love, as did Sansa, and Bran, and now Rickon.

Arya’s heard that Shireen Baratheon did too, as well as Myrcella and Robb and so many others who Arya doesn’t know the names of. Not to mention Daenerys Targaryen, the Queen of Meeren, who married Asha Greyjoy just weeks after they met.

Sometimes change is good, Arya thinks to herself. Even when it comes with pain and suffering, good can come out of it too.

-

Arya slips out of bed late at night, leaving Tommen to murmur in his sleep. She needs to feel the Northern air in her lungs one last time. She and Tommen are set to head back to King's Landing the next day, after a month and a half of being in Winterfell.

She loves King’s Landing, she does, but it’ll never be the same as her childhood home.

Arya wraps her cloak around her as she stands outside, watching as her breath turns to fog in front of her. Even at night, Winterfell is the most beautiful place she’s seen.

“Arya? Why are you awake?” Arya turns to Rickon pushing Bran, the latter rubbing sleep from his eyes. Nymeria sits up straighter at their arrival but doesn’t move from beside Arya. Her pups are still with Tommen, probably stretched over his chest and legs as her husband attempts to ward them off to sleep. Just the thought of it makes Arya’s heart melt a bit.

“I just wanted to see the snow and feel the air.” Bran nods sleepily, and Rickon leans down to pet Summer and Shaggydog as they emerge from behind the two boys. Nymeria brushes against Summer as he approaches her and Arya.

“What are you three doing up?” All three turn as Sansa appears from out of the shadows behind them, looking elegant even though clearly just roused from sleep.

“Arya wanted to experience the North once more before she heads South and forgets how to handle the cold air.” Arya rolls her eyes at Rickon and Sansa only laughs lightly as she moves to wrap an arm around Arya’s shoulder.

She, of all people, understands what it's like to be stuck in King's Landing and wants more than anything to be in Winterfell with their family. But Sansa never made a home of it as Arya did. Sansa was surrounded by manipulation from the start and never made King’s Landing a second home, even after she met Margaery. 

Arya did, but maybe just because she suspected she would never leave. The moment Joffrey died, Arya understood being with Tommen would mean being Queen, and thus having the Red Keep be where she lives.

Arya doesn’t mind, really. She’ll never be able to look at the Sept of Baelor and not think of her Father, or stand in the throne room without the memory of her and her sister being forced to their knees and beaten. Or reading the letter telling her her mother and brother were dead.

But she also remembers sparring with Tommen, and their wedding, and holding Visenya and Lyarra in her arms for the first time. It’s where Arya became friends with Margaery, and Ayana, and Syrio. It’s where she grew up, maybe not physically, but where she understood the cruelty of people and the sweetness that words could be wrapped in to hide their true meaning.

King’s Landing holds Joffrey, and Cersei, and so many others she’ll hate until the day she’s dead.

But it also holds Tommen, and Myrcella, and her children.

Arya supposes King’s Landing isn’t the worst place to make a second home.

A cold flash against her cheek breaks her from her thoughts. As she adjusts her eyes, she sees Rickon with his arm extended behind him and Sansa with a hand covering her mouth to cover her smile.

Arya gasps in mock outrage before she scoops up a ball of snow and hurls it at Rickon. He shoots out of the way just before it can hit him, and Arya cackles as it hits Bran in the face instead.

“Arya!” Bran leans down as much as he can in his chair to grab his snow before throwing it at her, missing her completely and hitting Sansa. Arya nearly kneels over with the force of her laughter at the look on her sister's face before she is once again pelted with snow by Rickon.

Arya shrieks and grabs snow, once again shooting it at him before sending another pile at Sansa. The siblings throw piles of snow and small chunks of ice while laughing and shrieking in outrage. Nymeria and Shaggydog join in eventually, Shaggydog running circles around the courtyard while Nymeria does her best to knock everyone over.

Summer stands guard for Bran as if trying to shield him from the snow, resulting in him being covered in mud and snow over the entirety of his fur before the Stark’s laughter quiets and their breathing slows.

They walk back inside together as Arya dusts off snow from her shoulders and Sansa from her chest. Rickon leaves on his own and Bran is noticeably snow-free, thanks to his direwolf.

Arya presses a kiss to Sansa’s shoulder before she leaves for her room, quietly shuffling to the bed and sliding under the thick blankets. She presses herself close to her sleeping husband, trying to warm her icy skin.

“You’re bloody freezing.” So, not sleeping then. Tommen’s voice is hushed and drowsy as he turns over to face Arya. She grins up at him with cheeks flush from the cold.

“Sorry.” Arya doesn't think she sounds sorry in the slightest, instead pressing her toes against his legs further. Tommen shrieks quietly. “I guess you’ll just have to warm me up.”

Tommen sighs halfheartedly, trying to go for annoyed, which would probably be more convincing if he wasn't grinning as he rolled on top of her. His mouth is hot against hers as he leans down and presses his lips to hers, and he wastes no time in pressing inside of her the moment she’s wet enough from his fingers.

After, they collapse with him on top of, not an unwelcome weight. They’re both sweaty as Arya cards her fingers through his hair, but neither mind.

“Don’t crush my stomach, stupid.”

“I’m not trying to, love.” He pulls back and looks down at her stomach, trailing his fingers over the skin. He presses one hand against her and begins to grin sheepishly. “Would you hit me if I said I miss you being round with babe.”

Arya rolls her eyes but now she’s smiling too. “No. Good news is, you’re in luck. You’ll have to wait only a few moons before you can see it again.”

She waits for the realization to set it. As it does, his eyes grow wide and his smile becomes larger, and he leans down to press a dozen quick kisses against her mouth, her cheeks, anywhere he can reach. 

“Truly? And so soon?”

Arya nods her cheeks beginning to hurt from her smile, “I believe so. I’ve been a bit sick and I feel the same as I did early on when I had the twins.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Tommen is beaming down at her, but Arya thinks she looks the same. They just had the twins, have barely gotten the hang of being parents, but Arya knows they can handle it. As long as they’re together, they can handle anything.

**Author's Note:**

> sadly, this is the final part to the series!! I never imagined it being eight parts, I also saw it being maybe two or three parts, but I'm proud of the way it turned out even if it was just for fun. I'll miss tommen and arya but will def be writing more stories of them


End file.
